


After the Storm, Must Rise the Sun

by Joanjun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Day At The Beach, First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shy Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15961193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanjun/pseuds/Joanjun
Summary: After the end of Season 13 (ignoring the finale), Dean decides they’re long overdue for a break, and convinces Cas and Sam to take a day off and go to the beach. In the lull of hunting, and through the change of atmosphere, Dean is compelled to confront his feelings about his future and Cas.





	After the Storm, Must Rise the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.  
> \- Carol Gilligan

 

“This is it man! This is what we needed!”

Everything about Dean’s expression was enthusiastic, from the way his hands danced excitedly on the wheel, to the glow of his sun-kissed skin, only surpassed by the radiance of the deep blue sky above them and the sparkling shimmer of sunlight swaying on the sea’s surface. Although he was behind the wheel, Dean’s body was half-turned in excitement towards Sam, also admiring the view spreading actively before them. A wide grin animated his features, noticed by Sam who smiled in return, and Cas, who watched him fondly through the rear-view mirror. 

 

\-----------

 

After the unexpected success of their expedition to Apocalypse World, which had not only brought back their mother, but Charlie and Bobby as well, something had set aflame in Dean. He yearned for a break; something he’d never deemed possible before. Some kind of vacation. Him, Sam and Cas, laying on a beach, sipping cold beers and watching the sun take its lazy dive into the sea. With Jack on their side and Lucifer marooned in another universe, the world had never had a better chance of keeping afloat on its own. At least for a while. 

The belief alone had cascaded and transformed into innumerable new possibilities, and Dean spent hours at night imagining and planning for them in anticipation. Certain daydreams were modest and mundane. He saw them putting their books and weapons down, driving down to Las Vegas for a week-end of strip and fun. He’d done it a few times before, but only with Sam. Maybe this time, they could bring their angel along and teach him a thing or two about poker. He reckoned they’d be unstoppable once they’d convinced Cas that ethically-questionable dealings could transform casinos into a substantially more enjoyable, and profitable, experience.  

Out of the jumble of plans and fantasies sprouting inside Dean’s mind, getting buried in booze and money in Las Vegas was easily among the tamest of them. Countless others were far more daring, unrestrained, impossible. Quitting the life, settling down. Retiring.  He knew Sam saw an end for them which didn’t end bloody or worse. As for Cas, he’d given up Heaven for them, turned his back on his brothers and sisters. All he had left for a family now was two weary hunters and Lucifer’s kid. Dean couldn’t blame him for wanting something better. He tried to ignore the antsy feeling he got every time he imagined Cas sliding into his crappy car and speeding away once he realized there was no more urgent life-ending crisis to be dealt with. An irrational part of him wanted to rush down the bunker corridor, creak open a door, and check for the presence of a tan trench coat carefully folded by a curled-up sleeping form.     

His mind couldn’t wrap itself around a future without a reason for all of them to spend a majority of their days, and their nights, together, crammed between glossy leather seats and blaring Zeppelin classics. Crappy diner food, late night research, temporary home sweet homes. It was all Dean knew.

_Then start slow._

_One step at a time._  

Begin with a short celebratory ‘We prevented another apocalypse!’ trip. And for the rest, they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

Thankfully, pitching the trip to his brother and Cas had been a piece of cake. Sam had leaned back in his chair and stared at him incredulously for a few seconds. “You?” he’d said with a dramatic rise of his eyebrows. “Dean Winchester wants to take a break from work?” Taking it as a yes, Dean had rolled his eyes and gone off to find Cas.  

Getting Cas to agree had been just as easy. Perhaps because he’d discovered him in their TV room, unreservedly unfurled across the recliner, like a cat contentedly stretched out on soft blankets. There’d been some show about two attractive guys remaking homes playing on low volume in the background. Dean had hovered for a minute, taking in the scene, before he’d squeezed gently at Cas’ shoulder. In a voice half between a breath and a murmur, he had asked him about a day off at the beach. A drowsy hum had been the angel’s only response, while Dean had watched him deepen the curve of his back and readjust the position of his legs, bringing them tighter to his chest. Unwilling to disturb Cas’s peace any longer, Dean had smiled softly at the sofa and made a movement to turn off the drowsing sound coming from the screen, before soundlessly closing the door behind him. 

 

\-----------

 

Now, the Cas sitting in the back of the Impala was a sharp contrast with the sleepy angel Dean had witnessed a week before. Although his chin rested on his forearms occupying the empty space of the front seat between the two brothers’ shoulders, his back was leaned towards the front windshield and his eyes fixed on the fluid landscape of nemophila flowers lapping at the edges of the sea-side road. His hair danced wildly with salty winds swishing in from the open windows. 

His shining eyes caught Dean’s in the mirror.  

“We’ll stop at the next exit!” Dean shouted over the sound of guitars. 

Sam leaned forward in his seat to press at a button and the music stopped. The car sunk into a partial silence, as guitar riffs and repetitive drums were replaced with the steady thrum of the car and the intermittent wailing of seagulls.

Dean spent the rest of the ride slowly taking in the sea air until he let the Impala cruise down a branching road, leading to a small stretch of dirt, where four or five other cars were already sweating languidly under the sun. 

 

\-----------

 

They carried their weapons bag, now filled with towels and sunscreen, down to a quiet stretch of the beach. After a short battle against strong gusts of wind, Dean laid down three towels on the fine, white sand. He wasted no time in stripping down to a pair of basic black swim shorts while Sam did the same. 

Out the corner of his eye, he was aware of Cas mimicking their actions, but he kept his gaze away from him. Instead, he stretched out his arms overhead with a yawn and flopped down on the towel beneath him. 

A few seconds later, Sam joined his side. Unlike Dean, he had gone for something a bit more original. His swim shorts showed small printed palm trees, and around them, a clear blue backcloth, echoing the sky above them. It was strange to see him wearing something else than plaid and flannel, but Dean liked it. It was another reminder that they weren't here for a hunt.

Dean glanced over at Cas and frowned when he noticed the angel bent over trying to remove his socks. 

“What is he? A stripper? Why does he have to wear so many layers?”

Sam turned towards Dean, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “When’d you become such a fashinonista? First, the swimsuit. And now, this.”

“The man didn’t have a single swimsuit, Sam.”

“He’s an angel, Dean,” Sam reasoned. “Don’t you think God’s soldiers would have been taken a bit less seriously if they’d gone around smiting people in speedos?”

Dean grinned, recalling the night Cas had made his dramatic entrance into the barn, only this time, he was half-naked and his eternal trench coat was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Sam had a point. 

“I can hear you, you know,” said a deadpan voice off to Dean’s side. 

Dean huffed out a laugh and he turned sideways to take a look at Cas and the swimsuit he’d helped him pick at Target earlier in the morning. His eyes climbed the whole length of his body, his bare feet covered in specks of sand, his sturdy bronzed legs leading to crossed arms above his hips, and a slight pinch at his lips as he stared Sam and Dean down. 

Dean cleared his throat and his gaze slid away from Cas. 

"It suits you," he said, his eyes fixed on the view before him, where timid waves softly caressed the beach. "I told you."

Cas lowered his eyes, frowning slightly, as he appeared to be forming his own opinion on the matter. His beach attire was a definite departure from his usual sober suit and tie. With surprisingly little coaxing, Dean had convinced him to grab a unique pair of pink and white swim trunks from one of the many swimsuits on display in the oversized store and had ushered him into a fitting room by placing a guiding hand on his shoulder blade. The image of Cas in boxers adorned with a shameless pattern of kissing flamingos, each pair creating the vague shape of an anatomically incorrect heart, had been too good to pass up.

And how right he was. Seeing Cas look so human and petite, although nothing about him remotely approached the mundane or fragile, made Dean's chest tighten impulsively. He felt overwhelmed and undeserving of witnessing such light and tenderness. Cas’s green-leafed humanity had only made him more radiant, fiercer, stronger. Dean was only grateful they had been given the honor to serve a part in the nurturing of his soul. 

"It feels very different," said Cas, as his hands tugged gently at the seams of his boxers.

Dean snapped out of his contemplation.

"It's supposed to, genius," he retorted, but without any bite to it.

 

\-----------

 

In a rare and precious instance, Dean didn't wake up with a start. There was no cold sweat drenching the fall between his nape and the dip of his back. No halted breaths of apprehension. No blood pounding in his ears, overpowering all other sounds around him. 

He came to the distant roar of laughter, the overjoyed kind, where throats swell and bubble up with the feeling, erupting in buoyant echoes. He recognized Sam's raucous laugh. And underneath it, Cas's hearty chuckle.

He kept his eyes closed, only letting them open when the sounds of laughter had quieted down, almost drowned out by the tide.

Two slumber-numbed hands made contact with the warm sand, fingers sinking smoothly into the golden loose surface, as Dean pushed himself up to a half-sitting, half-leaning position. A strong pang of affection hit him when he spotted two figures, unmistakably his brother and his angel, as one had waves lapping at his hips and the other his lower chest, in the middle of what seemed to be an all-out, yet still strategic, splashing war. Cas was prudently backing away from Sam, who stood facing him, arms akimbo. 

Dean blinked. When his eyes opened again, Cas was gone. For a few seconds, he stared dumbly at the spot where Cas should have been standing, until he saw him violently emerge from beneath the surface, like some human-sized sea monster, and lunge swiftly at Sam from behind.  

Their epic battle had drawn in the attention of a few bystanders on the beach. A tall silver-haired woman had her hands suspended in mid-air, an uncapped bottle of sunscreen in one of them. A father and his little girl, or so Dean assumed, had both stopped adding more sand to a mound most likely hiding a pair of adult-sized feet. 

Together, their cheerful smile widened as Sam put up a fierce struggle against Cas's ambush, abruptly folding his back forward and his arms grabbing blindly at Cas, before he ultimately tumbled in a great crash into the water, dragged backwards by the weight and force of Cas's pull.

For a few more minutes, they continued to play around like that, until eventually, they tired out and tread their way through the sandy shore back to Dean. As they passed the little girl crouching over her growing mountain of sand, she stood up and clapped excitedly. They both smiled fondly at her, although Cas added a courteous little bow in recognition. 

When they reached Dean, they looked brighter and lighter than they had in months. In years. Dean couldn’t hide the matching emotion on his face. 

"How's the water? No sharks?" 

He rummaged through their repurposed weapons bag and threw two towels at Sam, who passed one along to Cas, who nodded in thanks.

Cas absently patted his bare chest with his towel. His eyes looked almost translucent in the sunlight. Dean felt he was closer than ever to grasping their intentions. 

“I’m getting a beer,” he announced, hastily pushing himself up to his feet. “Who wants one?”

He felt Cas’s eyes on him as he slipped on his t-shirt, but didn’t meet his stare.

“I’ll have two!” 

“Whoa. Slow down, Sammy,” he said, grinning. “Drinking ain’t gonna make you forget your defeat against Mr. Sun Tzu here.” 

Sam shot him a wry look. 

“And how many bottles are you getting for _yourself_ , Dean?”

“Hey, we’re here to cool off,” Dean said, raising his palms in defense with a shrug. “It’s not like we’re on a job or something.”

“ _Right_.” Sam snorted. “Like you don’t drink on the job.”

Before Dean had a chance to think of a witty comeback, he was interrupted by a tranquil voice.

“No beer for me, thank you,” Cas said, almost sweetly, looking at Dean. Cas could have been telling him, “No thank you, honey.”

Dean grumbled a quiet “Okay,” as he turned away, leaving Sam with his satisfied smug at getting the last word.

 

\-----------

 

It was a short walk back to the Impala, more tiring in the sandy stairs Dean had to climb to reach it than in its actual distance to the beach. 

Dean’s skin felt burning hot. He wiped a hand at his forehead as he walked the last few steps to the back of the car.

The trunk open, he leaned down and pressed his face down on the cooler’s lid. Some relief spread through him as he felt coolness seep from the smooth plastic surface.

He breathed out deeply. 

_This is what happens when you let yourself think about it._

He closed his eyes.

He felt the sun beat down on his neck, sweat pearling and rolling down his back.

When he set himself straight again, he rubbed at the edge of his nose and smoothed a hand over his light stubble.

He reached down for the cooler and shut the trunk with a slam.

 

\-----------

 

The rest of the afternoon passed comfortably.

Jokes and beers were shared lazing down on the sand. True to his word, Sam drank two. Dean had one or two more. And Cas had one too, Dean having handed him one in an unspoken offering.

The Devil’s name was not uttered once. Nor was any other archangel’s.

Jack’s name was spoken more than any others; they wondered where they’d like to take him, what they wanted to show him. No clear consensus emerged from their avid discussion, as they all remained stubborn about their initial ideas. Sam was adamant that a natural history museum was the obvious destination; the issue with skipping childhood was that he’d also skipped on years of formal education. 

Dean shook his head emphatically at this. He knew where every kid in America, hell, every kid around the world, wanted to go. And that was Disneyland. Who didn’t want to go on the cowboy or pirate rides and eat churros and hot dogs all day?

At his side, Cas sat quiet and frowning, studying his empty bottle in his hands. 

“What do you think, Cas?” Cas’s head snapped up. “Disney’s gotta be it, right?”

He let his thumbs brush the glass rim before he answered.  

“I think he likes being outdoors.” He looked at Sam and continued. “And as Sam said, he doesn’t know anything of the world around him. He’s never seen the million-year-old cliffs of the Grand Canyon. Of course, he won’t get the chance to observe its birth from the carving of the rushing waters, as I had the chance to, but I think he may still find it beautiful.” He paused. “But we could go to Disney as well if if that’s where you’d like to go,” he added more slowly, his eyes setting on Dean.

Dean found himself heating up unexpectedly and took a large gulp of his beer. He planted his bottle in the sand.

He exhaled. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what the kid wants.”

“Sure, Dean,” Sam said with raised eyebrows.

Cas’s mouth twitched up slightly at the corners.

Whatever. They didn’t have to decide right away. Dean was good where he was now.

 

\-----------

 

The wind wound down to a barely palpable breeze in the early evening. Sensing the change, the beach gradually emptied until only the three hunters remained. 

Still stretched on a towel, Dean watched Sam pick up half-buried bottles from the sand and stuff them in their bag while he played with a stray thread. 

They stayed quiet, Sam busy cleaning up and Dean enjoying the last remnants of the day, focusing on the tepid sand brushing at his feet, the sound of rolling waves, the hopeful and anxious feeling in his chest. 

Sam cleared his throat.

“Okay, we’re good.” He cast one last glance around him. “Just your towel and-”

“Here you go, chief.” Dean was up and brushing sand off his shorts. 

His legs felt shaky standing up after so long. He fidgeted in place, trying to alleviate the ache of stiff muscles in his back and neck.

“Wanna tell Cas we’re going?” Sam asked, his head nodding towards the shore, where a lone, shirtless angel stood motionless, facing the sea.

Dean sighed. “Do we have to?”

He knew how he sounded. Sam too apparently, since he seemed to be hesitating about what to say next. He dropped the bag down back on the sand and took a look around the beach before facing Dean again.

“You know, Dean... just because we’re going home now doesn’t mean it has to end here."

Dean’s hands ducked in his pockets, where they felt less revealing.

“I know, dude.” He rolled his eyes half-heartedly, trying to brush off the incoming chick-flick moment. “We can come back here, we’re still young, we’ll bring Jack next time, blah blah blah...”

Sam didn’t let Dean get away with it. “Dean, don’t. You know I’m talking about Cas. And whatever’s going on between you two.” He took a step towards Dean. “I’m your brother. I can tell when something’s up with you.”

Dean swallowed. He steeled himself up for what he was about to say. “But it’s Cas, man. He’s our best friend. He’s family. Maybe... maybe even more than that.” His breath caught in his throat. “If I screw this up... _when_ I screw this up, there’s no going back.”

He tried to steady his breathing. Sam took another step to stand up before him.

“Dean, you might screw it up. Hell, Cas might screw up too, you know.” He gave Dean a small smile. “But then you’ll work it out. You always do. You forgive him and he forgives you and you get past it. That’s just how it goes,” he finished softly. 

Sam watched Dean’s reaction closely, probably making sure his words didn’t fall on deaf ears. And they didn’t, not completely.

They were words Dean had told himself in the past in hopeful fits. They didn’t stick.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I hear you, Sammy. I just... This shit’s not easy.”

A firm hand landed on his shoulder.

“Who cares? When have you ever done easy, anyway?” He grinned at Dean as he squeezed his shoulder.  

Dean felt an overwhelming urge to grab his brother in his arms. Or to tackle him to the ground.  

His emotions were a mess.

 

\-----------

 

They still were when he approached Cas, but at least walking made him feel like he could breathe easier.

Cas hadn’t moved; he stood barefoot in the sand, foamy water lapping at his ankles. The hem of his suit pants had been rolled up and his dress shirt was missing. Long gone was the holy tax accountant look. He was like a crash survivor on a deserted island, patiently awaiting rescue. 

Dean came up next to him and stopped at his side. 

Cas made no acknowledgement of Dean’s presence.   

Dean let the silence sit for a while. He tried to discern what Cas was observing in the distance by following his gaze. All he could see were melting shades of pink and orange dyeing the sky.

Dean shifted slightly. “Uh... we’re good to go. We’re all packed up.”

“Alright.” Cas made a movement to turn back, which was halted by Dean with a grasp to his arm.

“Hey. We don’t have to go right now, right now.”

Cas’s gaze lifted up from where Dean’s fingers were loosely circled around his arm, to meet his eyes.  

“Isn’t Sam waiting for us?”

“Tsk. He can wait up for a few more minutes, can’t he?” His hand let go of Cas and dropped back to his side. “You can finish doing, uh... whatever it is you were doing.”

After a pause, Cas started, “Angels have the gift and curse of perfect memory,” he wasn’t looking at Dean, his gaze still cast away somewhere far on the horizon. His tone sounded remote as well. “I remember everything. From the day I was created by my Father, to every single detail of when I found you in Hell.” 

Dean looked down at the water brush his toes, remaining silent.

Cas went on. “It’s almost physically impossible for me to forget anything. And yet, I’m so afraid that I’ll forget any of this.”

Dean looked up, his eyes wide, to find Cas staring back at him, his expression gone soft.

Dean didn’t know how to start.

“Are you happy, Cas?” he decided to ask.

 _Skip right to the middle if you can’t start at the beginning._  

Cas didn’t reply immediately. Maybe he’d been too frank.

Dean plowed on to make himself clearer. “What do you want?” he failed to ask coolly. “I mean... is this okay for you? Hunting? You know, staying with us instead of going back to Heaven,” he said, nodding his head upwards. “We need to know... I mean, _I_ gotta know if you feel like you’re just getting dragged along for the ride or if you actually want this.”

He let himself catch his breath. He waited for Cas’s reply, who looked hesitant.

“I want to be with you,” came the hushed answer.

Dean felt his shoulders loosen with relief. He smiled easily at Cas. 

“Yeah, already told you, Cas. You’re family. And family always has a place with us.”

“No, Dean,” he said, his voice firmer. “I want to be with _you_.” 

Dean was silent for a beat, before a small laugh escaped from him. 

Cas frowned at him. “You asked me what I wanted and I told you honestly that-” 

“I know, I know, Cas. I’m sorry.” A hand wiped at his face.  

He shook his head. “It’s just, I come here, finally goddam ready to tell you that I want you to stay with us.” His head shook again. “No, with _me_. And then you go and say it first.” 

Cas cocked his head to the side. “I’m sorry?” 

His frown was gone and a smile was tugging at his lips. 

“It’s okay.” Dean sighed and smiled back at Cas. “I’m just a dumbass.” 

Cas huffed out a laugh and leaned towards him.

“No, you’re not, Dean.”

Their lips brushed together. Their embrace deepened. A hand slid around his nape. One at his side. Their foreheads touched briefly before they pulled away.

Cas hummed contently, as he scoured Dean’s flushed expression. Dean licked his tingling lips. 

“As a very dear friend of mine would say,” Cas paused and beamed at Dean, “that was awesome.”

Dean’s face broke into a grin. “Tsk, come here, you moron.” 

He pulled Cas closer to him, close enough to feel his tender warmth envelop him. He rested his chin onto Cas’ shoulder. Cas followed. 

“Are you happy, Dean?” Cas murmured, hot breath on his neck. 

Dean pressed a kiss to his collarbone. 

“You know it, Cas.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Basically I wanted to write something about Dean’s inner struggles with both what his life could become if they ever stopped hunting, and with his not-so platonic feelings towards Cas. I also wanted something cute but deep, which gives off nice summer vibes and has Team Free Will finally get a chance to relax a little :p  
> Also for the sake of this fic let’s pretend Cas likes to sleep even though he doesn’t need to!  
> Finally, I'd love to hear your thoughts about the fic!


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